Song | Synchronicity II |
Artist | The Police |
Album | Message In A Box |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Sting | |
Another suburban family morning | |
Grandmother screaming at the wall | |
We have to shout above the din of our rice crispies | |
We can't hear anything at all | |
Mother chants her litany of boredom and frustration | |
But we know all her suicides are fake | |
Daddy only stares into the distance | |
There's only so much more that he can take | |
Many miles away | |
Something crawls from the slime | |
At the bottom of a dark scottish lake | |
Another industrial ugly morning | |
The factory belches filth into the sky | |
He walks unhindered through the picket lines today | |
He doesn't think to wonder why | |
The secretaries pout and preen like | |
Cheap tarts in a red light street | |
But all he ever thinks to do is watch | |
And every single meeting with his so-called superior | |
Is a humiliating kick in the crotch | |
Many miles away | |
Something crawls to the surface | |
Of a dark scottish lake | |
Another working day has ended | |
Only the rush hour hell to face | |
Packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes | |
Contestants in a suicidal race | |
Daddy grips the wheel and stares alone into the distance | |
He knows that something somewhere has to break | |
He sees the family home now looming in the headlights | |
The pain upstairs that makes his eyeballs ache | |
Many miles away | |
There's a shadow on the door | |
Of a cottage on the shore | |
Of a dark scottish lake | |
Many miles away, many miles away |
zuo ci : Sting | |
Another suburban family morning | |
Grandmother screaming at the wall | |
We have to shout above the din of our rice crispies | |
We can' t hear anything at all | |
Mother chants her litany of boredom and frustration | |
But we know all her suicides are fake | |
Daddy only stares into the distance | |
There' s only so much more that he can take | |
Many miles away | |
Something crawls from the slime | |
At the bottom of a dark scottish lake | |
Another industrial ugly morning | |
The factory belches filth into the sky | |
He walks unhindered through the picket lines today | |
He doesn' t think to wonder why | |
The secretaries pout and preen like | |
Cheap tarts in a red light street | |
But all he ever thinks to do is watch | |
And every single meeting with his socalled superior | |
Is a humiliating kick in the crotch | |
Many miles away | |
Something crawls to the surface | |
Of a dark scottish lake | |
Another working day has ended | |
Only the rush hour hell to face | |
Packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes | |
Contestants in a suicidal race | |
Daddy grips the wheel and stares alone into the distance | |
He knows that something somewhere has to break | |
He sees the family home now looming in the headlights | |
The pain upstairs that makes his eyeballs ache | |
Many miles away | |
There' s a shadow on the door | |
Of a cottage on the shore | |
Of a dark scottish lake | |
Many miles away, many miles away |
zuò cí : Sting | |
Another suburban family morning | |
Grandmother screaming at the wall | |
We have to shout above the din of our rice crispies | |
We can' t hear anything at all | |
Mother chants her litany of boredom and frustration | |
But we know all her suicides are fake | |
Daddy only stares into the distance | |
There' s only so much more that he can take | |
Many miles away | |
Something crawls from the slime | |
At the bottom of a dark scottish lake | |
Another industrial ugly morning | |
The factory belches filth into the sky | |
He walks unhindered through the picket lines today | |
He doesn' t think to wonder why | |
The secretaries pout and preen like | |
Cheap tarts in a red light street | |
But all he ever thinks to do is watch | |
And every single meeting with his socalled superior | |
Is a humiliating kick in the crotch | |
Many miles away | |
Something crawls to the surface | |
Of a dark scottish lake | |
Another working day has ended | |
Only the rush hour hell to face | |
Packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes | |
Contestants in a suicidal race | |
Daddy grips the wheel and stares alone into the distance | |
He knows that something somewhere has to break | |
He sees the family home now looming in the headlights | |
The pain upstairs that makes his eyeballs ache | |
Many miles away | |
There' s a shadow on the door | |
Of a cottage on the shore | |
Of a dark scottish lake | |
Many miles away, many miles away |